


Come not between the dragon and his wrath

by Sharpiefan



Series: The Shakespeare Series [18]
Category: The London Life (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Post-Canon, Regency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:13:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8975440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharpiefan/pseuds/Sharpiefan
Summary: A conversation between Lord Rotherham and his son after Olivia elopes with Harun.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It was mentioned in passing that Lord Rotherham might, possibly, make Olivia's dowry over to Robbie if Olivia did elope with Harun. This is a speculative fic based on that possibility and probably completely canon divergent even if the elopement takes place.
> 
> Robbie has recently married Bee, this is set in January 1812 shortly after their wedding and before they return to Spain for the latter part of the Peninsular War.

_Come not between the dragon and his wrath_  
\- King Lear, Act 1, Scene 1

(Rotherham Park, some undetermined date in the future, possibly January 1812...)

The request for Robbie to attend on his father was, in one respect, entirely ordinary. Otherwise, however, it was entirely extraordinary: Robbie was a serving officer, married and no longer living at home – he was only there with his wife on a visit. And he had no idea why his father might wish to see him – certainly he had no idea what Lord Rotherham might need to say to him in a private interview that could not be said in a conversation with their family around them.

On being admitted, he came to stand in front of the Earl's desk, a place where he had stood to receive numerous dressings-down, some of them preceding whippings for one crime or another. He could not think why he might have been so summoned this time, and could not help the glance around for the half-expected birch, despite forcibly reminding himself that he was a grown man, with a wife of his own, responsible for a regiment of cavalry soldiers and had been of age these many years – and, moreover, was a guest of the Earl, who had never had either of his sons birched for an infraction they were unaware they had committed.

What was more, Lord Rotherham did not look angry, although Robbie was hard-pressed to put a name to the emotion in his father's eyes.

“Do have a seat, Robbie – you look as if you expected a whipping, although why a fine upstanding officer of His Majesty's Fourteenth Light Dragoons should have such a guilty conscience as to expect a birching shall forever remain a mystery to me, I fear.”

The words were teasing, but the accompanying gleam in Lord Rotherham's dark eyes vanished as soon as it appeared.

Wordlessly, Robbie sat, waiting for an explanation, although it was not immediately forthcoming for his father got up and crossed to the window rather than speak.

“I find that I am suddenly richer by a matter of... several thousand pounds, which had been marked for a specific purpose,” the Earl began eventually, in a strangely neutral tone, looking out of the window as he spoke.

For his father to begin a conversation by having his back to the person he was speaking to was so unusual that Robbie frowned, opened his mouth to say something and closed it again, the words (whatever they were going to be) left unspoken.

“As I am no longer required to hold this sum in readiness, I have it in mind to make it over to you, to do with as you wish.”

Money... a sum over and above his allowance – such a sum as to render that allowance unnecessary, indeed, if Robbie was reading this aright.

“May I ask how much, sir?” he said, cautiously.

Lord Rotherham turned. Silhouetted against the window, his face could not be clearly seen and therefore Robbie could not read whatever emotion were showing there. The Earl's words were neutral. “Forty-five thousand pounds.”

Robbie sat back, astonished at the generosity of such a sum being made over to him – he knew he was to get the residue of Lady Rotherham's dowry on her death, but any younger son could expect that. He supposed he should be grateful that he would not have to share that with any younger brothers, but this... this was so unexpected an offer that it was a moment before he could find his voice.

“Forty-five thousand pounds, sir?” That would make him rich – the income from that in the four per cents would be... He could not work it out, and silently cursed his mathematical weakness. More than enough to live on, and live on comfortably.

There was something unsettlingly familiar about the amount, though, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Father... was this supposed to have been Olivia's dowry?”

“I do not wish to hear that name in this house again,” Lord Rotherham said flatly, and it was Robbie's turn to stand, feeling more like himself once he was on his feet.

“She is my sister, sir,” Robbie said, striving to keep his voice neutral, to keep the pain out. He paced to the far end of the room, paused by the chessboard and adjusted the position of the white king so it stood in the centre of its square as he attempted to gather his thoughts.

“May I ask why, Father?” he asked, looking up to see that the Earl had sat down again, looking ten years older.

“She has thrown herself away on the Moroccan ambassador, Robbie – do you remember him? He was recalled, or the term of his appointment was up, and she has sailed with him, preferring his company and customs to ours. Therefore, she is no longer a daughter of mine and her entry is barred, to this house, or any other under my charge.”

Lord Rotherham was no longer, in this moment, the kind and wise, if strict, father that Robbie had always known and respected – and loved. He was the paterfamilias of the Fitzgerald family, guardian of the Rotherham title, and the estates and dignity that went with it. Robbie instinctively straightened, the response both of a soldier before a superior and of a son before the head of the household.

The Earl was within his rights to cut Olivia off, of course – could just as easily do so to Robbie himself were he to do something to bring the family into disrepute.

“Sir... Is this absolutely proven?” he asked, knowing even as he spoke that it must have been, that Lord Rotherham was not one to take such a definite and irrevocable step unless there were proof positive.

“Yes. She was considerate enough to write a letter, but the ship had sailed by the time it was discovered and I had reached the docks. She is gone, Robbie.”

Robbie had crossed back to the chair before his father's desk and collapsed into it, feeling rather like a marionette which had suddenly had all its strings cut. “I... may I write to her, Father? She is my sister, I cannot disregard the concern I have for her as... as her brother.”

He frowned as he realised how that sounded.

“You may write – you are of age, and a married man, to boot.” Lord Rotherham's face softened a little. “I should like to know that she is well, Robbie, but she has no further claim on any Fitzgerald monies or property. The monies that would have been hers are to be yours, and the monies you may expect from Lady Rotherham's dowry shall come to you also in due course, or I shall have them put in trust for your children, if you wish it.”

Robbie merely nodded, numb from the news. “I am truly sorry, Father. Is there anything I can do, at all?”

Rotherham shook his head. “No, although I thank you. You may go, I have business to attend to.”

Robbie stood, gave his father a dutiful nod and turned to the door. He would not swear to it later, but as he turned, he was almost certain he saw tears in his father's eyes.


End file.
